Pennington Must Die
by rlylaughable
Summary: An AU fic, based off a quip from the Star Trek RiffTrax. Nero and Ayel are trying to kill a certain reality show host, and Bones and Kirk are security guards. Hijinx ensue. Realism be damned!
1. Chapter 1

"We wait for the one who allowed our home to be destroyed."

"...Ty Pennington?"

"Yes." Nero said, emphasizing the S, as he often did when he was pleased.

"Could you, uh, have enlightened me of this fact sometime before you camped us outside ABC studios waiting for the aforementioned to come out?"

"Didn't I?"

"No. No, you did not."

"I'm pretty sure I did, Ayel."

"I think I would have remembered if you told me this fucking 30 year vendetta of yours is over a sexually ambiguous reality show host with arrogant hair."

"Nuh-uh!"

"Once again your debate skills prove to be immaculate. You know, I regret leaving my good mining job to come on this, erm…adventure with you."

"FIRE EVERYTHING!"

"Not now, Nero."

---

"Morning, Kirk." Bones said, entering the break room, wishing they actually had a coffee pot in here. Why they could afford a toaster oven, microwave, tongs, and steak knives, but never a damn Mr. Coffee, was beyond Bones' comprehension. Sure, he was a mere security guard, but he knew right from wrong.

_Dear God, I sound like my father. _Bones thought, shaking his head, _I could really use some fucking coffee._

"Mornin'," Kirk replied, looking like he was about to fall asleep in his Jimmy Dean breakfast sandwich. Like it or not, advertising executives, a breakfast sandwich does not mimic the pep of the 70 milligrams of caffeine found per eight ounces of instant coffee, nor would the damn solar system settle for anything less.

Fuck, Bones needed coffee. When the refrigerator looks plush, man…

"So didja see the weirdos camped outside?" Kirk mumbled.

"_Fuck_, you serious? Have you tried talking to 'em?"

"Hell no," Kirk replied dully, leafing through an ancient newspaper, "I figure we can leave that to ol' Cupcake."

"You really gotta stop calling him that, Kirk."

Kirk scoffed, but didn't reply. Bones shrugged and went about harvesting the fridge. The junk food stash had inexplicably been removed, and no one questioned this because it had never been made abundantly clear who it technically belonged to, even though Bones was sure it wasn't just him who was siphoning Pringles.

As Bones absently scanned the offerings, he made a discovery. Scott had been laid off, but didn't clear out his stale Chinese food.

"Jim, could you move for a bit?" Bones said, mostly to himself, "I want to do a cartwheel."

"What?" Jim replied, after a pause of a few seconds.

"Nothing," Bones muttered, and grabbed the Chinese food. As he searched for a semi-clean plastic fork, seeing as he was not packin' silverware at the moment, he came to a stark realization; his life sucked, blew, _and _swallowed. With a sigh, he settled for a dusty spoon.

---

"We're not gonna take it! No! We ain't gonna take it!" Nero yelled, picking up more rocks to throw at the large gate.

"Nero," Ayel said, massaging his temples, "We've been in Los Angeles for a day and a half. How in God's name have you managed to hit a Sunset Strip record store in that time?"

"We're right! Yeah! We're free! Yeah! We'll fight! Yeah! You'll see!"

"I'm going back in the tent."

"Now drop and give me 20, we're not gonna take it!"

---

Bones adjusted his aviator sunglasses and glanced at Kirk, who also had aviator sunglasses. They thought the sunglasses made them look more authoritative - like prison guards, a bit - but when Bones remembered that they'd bought them on Fisherman's Warf with a naked guy painted silver outside the cheap tourist shop, it sort of killed the self-illusion.

They were standing on the interior side of the front gate; on the other side, one tattooed freak was throwing rocks and singing Twisted Sister, and there was another, assumedly equally tattooed, freak in the tent, yelling about the stupidity of the former freak.

"Well?" Kirk mumbled, "You wanna go first, or me?"

"Eh," Bones replied, "I guess I will."

"Alright, whenever you're ready."

Bones cleared his throat.

"Hey, fellas," he shouted, "It's 11 in the morning, could this wait until after noon?"

The rock-throwing freak stopped.

"We await the arrival of the one who destroyed our home!"

"…what?"

"I saw it happen, he was perfectly able to stop it but did nothing! FIRE EVERYTHING!"

"_Shut up_, Nero!" The other freak emerged from the tent, and seemed surprised to see Kirk and Bones standing there, "Oh, uh. Hello."

"Uh, hi. You didn't realize…"

"Well, Nero often yells about his troubled past to no one in particular."

"Right," Bones said, giving a confused glance to Kirk, "What's up with your tattoos?"

"Well, we're from another world."

"Yeah, South Central is pretty nuts."

"No, I mean another _planet_."

"Look, dude, having ill-advised facial tattoos does _not _mean you're an alien."

"But we really are!"

"No, you're not." Bones groaned.

"Look," Kirk finally said, extending his palms as if Bones and the tattooed guy were fighting, "Let's just get beyond this alien-or-not argument, because no one here has the time to deal with _that_. What, exactly, do you want?"

Nero was still holding rocks in preparation for a great rock war. Ayel decided to just get this over with, because sitting through Nero's explanation could become unbearable very quickly.

"We're here to kill Ty Pennington."

Bones and Kirk looked at eachother, and words were silently spoken. Kirk punched a button, and the gate slowly swung automatically open.

"Come with us."


	2. Chapter 2

Bones hung up the phone in the surveillance room. Technically he and Kirk weren't supposed to be in here – anymore – but it was the one corner of the lot that actually had no surveillance. The irony of this was not lost on Bones, but he decided it wasn't the time for tomfoolery.

"Alright," he said, leaning back in the chair, "Pennington is currently in the Extreme Makeover Home Edition production offices. He should be going to get lunch in about a half hour. That's when he'll be the most vulnerable."

"I have a question," Ayel said, probably too close to the end of the previous sentence, "Why are you helping us?"

There was a pause.

"For distraction," Kirk finally said, "Maybe just amusement."

"Truly the noblest of motives," Bones added, with a far too sincere nod.

Ayel shrugged. When it came to getting away from this godforsaken place where the air was _visible_, he'd take what he could get.

"Alright," he replied listlessly, "What's the plan?"

Kirk grinned.

"Either of you gentlemen ever seen Oz?"

Nero's face contorted to a combination of rage and confusion. Which, given how his face usually looked, meant he was confused.

---

"So why do they call you Bones?" Ayel asked, leaning against his knees as they waited for in the stock room of Taco Bell.

"Ah, um. Well," Bones replied, blushing slightly and messing with the lid of a nearby box, "Kirk and I went to Vegas a few years back, and, uh…"

"Please pay special attention to the fact that it's _plural_." Kirk said with a wink. Ayel decided to not press the matter further.

The door opened to reveal a slightly chubby, prematurely balding fellow.

"Hi Scott," Bones and Kirk said in unison.

"'Ello lads, still workin' that dead hooker of a job at ABC?"

Ayel didn't really understand the metaphor, and didn't particularly want to.

"Yeah," Kirk said, "Still Scottish and whimsical?"

"Aye, aye,"

"So you're sure Pennington always comes to eat here on Wednesdays?"

"Aye, like clockwork,"

"I assume our deal is still operational. No questions asked?"

"Personally I haven' got a question about what you're plannin' to do with Pennington's food, because to be 'onest, it's probably about the same as what I'd do with it given the opportunity and organization." With that, Scott reached around the corner, to retrieve a Burrito Supreme.

"Jus' please put some kinda markin' on the packagin' so I don't give it to the wrong customer."

"Sounds good, Scott. Thanks."

"No problem, laddies, just have it ready in 10 minutes or you'll miss 'im, seven to be safe." Scott now closed the large door.

"Since when is working at Taco Bell better than being a security guard?" Bones muttered bitterly, clutching the burrito.

"Eh, if you can speak English you're pretty much on the fast track to management." Kirk replied, shuffling through various items on the thin metal shelf.

"What are you looking for?" Ayel asked.

"Pickle jar."

"Oh. I thought you said Oz was a show about prison."

"It is."

"Oh. I didn't realize pickles were the primary weapon of choice for convicts."

Bones attempted to restrain his guffaw as best he could.

"No," Kirk replied, also visibly repressing a smile, "In this one episode, these two guys kill another guy by crushing glass and putting it in his food. It causes a hemorrhage of most vital organs, thanks to shards of glass being digested; pretty much untraceable."

Nero groaned like a small child, unhappy about going to the shoe store after school. Ayel sighed.

"Yes, Nero?"

"I was hoping we could kill him with a little more ceremony; you know, with a guillotine or an execution-style shooting, or something."

"With his level of security, this is as good as it gets." Bones said, desperately hoping Nero wouldn't throw a fit and jeopardize the whole plan.

Nero grunted again and crossed his arms over his chest. Bones turned back to Kirk, who had found a pickle jar, dispensed its contents, and was now using a brick to crush it up.

"How much time do we have?" Kirk asked.

Bones glanced at his watch.

"Three minutes, if we want to be safe."

Kirk nodded and pounded on the glass a few more times. When he removed the brick, the glass looked like a pile of crystalline sand, save for a few larger pieces, which Kirk removed upon further inspection.

"Hand me the burrito."

Bones obeyed. Kirk grabbed a nearby plastic spoon and scooped up a small cluster of glass, gingerly sprinkled it over the opened tortilla, and mixed it in with the beef, cheese, and the like.

"Are you sure he won't notice?" Ayel asked.

"Yeah, they're small enough at this point that he'll probably just barrel on through."

"Doesn't he have a servant to test for poison, though?"

Kirk and Bones glanced at each other, each experiencing some noticeable difficulty in not cracking the fuck up here and now.

"No, he is not that far up in the royal order." Bones voice sounded like he'd been holding his breath for a while.

Ayel nodded confidently.

The door now creaked open.

"Ready, boys?" Scott whispered.

"Yeah, here you go," Kirk carefully placed the burrito in Scott's hands, "There's a small Sharpie mark on the paper."

"Aye," Scott replied, "You lads need to leave through th' delivery entrance, same as ya came."

"Okay. Thanks again, Scott."

Scott shut the door, and the four now scrambled to escape. They dashed across the parking lot, the cries of "Sick tats, bro!" by two stoners fading into the traffic behind them.

---

Three days later, the front page announced, "Ty Pennington dead; rednecks mourn." Nero and Ayel were gone by the time Bones and Kirk read this; thank God for small favors.

As Bones drove to work, he noticed the flags outside every KFC were at half-mast. He smiled; he'd left his mark on the world. Whether or not he ever received credit, the world was now consciously different thanks to something _he'd _done.

Walking into the break room, he and Kirk exchanged grins. A few seconds later, Bones received a text.

_We kick ass._

Bones rolled his eyes and tapped the keyboard of his phone.

_Suddenly work is so much lamer._

_Yeah. Maybe we should reconsider our career paths._

_What?_

_Dude, we killed a celebrity. You know how hard that is to do? If the right people knew it was us, we could have some very lucrative clientele._

…_you want us to become assassins to the stars?_

_Yes._

…_alright, let's do it._

Bones and Kirk nodded at each other and left. They reached the front gate and crossed through it. Standing on the sidewalk, they slipped on their sunglasses in unison, and started walking.


End file.
